


Not Even To Save Your Life, He Said

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Awkward First Times, Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Semi-Public Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: He lied. (Duh.)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 12
Kudos: 167
Collections: Dimilix NSFW Bingo





	Not Even To Save Your Life, He Said

Dimitri caught sight of a flash of red and a familiar grin, and turned just in time to watch Sylvain slip behind a stairwell and disappear. 

For a moment, he considered letting it go. He was nearly late to class himself, and the time it would take to wheedle Sylvain into behaving respectfully would surely push him over into full blown tardiness. But he knew that stairwell, knew where the covered path behind it led, sloping down to secret passages that led to underground Abyss.

“Sylvain,” he muttered, slowing to a stop, squinting into the shadowed passage after him. Already out of sight. He shifted on his feet, glancing unhappily about. The Professor would worry about him, if he missed class. Dedue even moreso. His presence in the underworld would be noted, remarked upon, and more rumours would swirl. He rocked from foot to foot, deliberating. 

Ahead, around the corner, a long shadow fell and turned and became a man’s silhouette, and one he knew well, at that. 

“Hello, Felix,” he greeted him, unthinking. Felix froze in place and flinched away from him, which did still sting, no matter how justified it was. He cleared his throat. “My apologies,” he said, nodding. He stepped back, as though to give him more room, though in truth they still stood quite far apart. Felix darted his eyes over his shoulder, crossed his arms over his chest, and made a derisive sound, a breathy _hmph._

And Dimitri realized something. 

“Though I cannot help but notice that you seem to be heading in the _opposite_ direction, from our classroom…” 

“Mind your own business.” 

Dimitri sighed. “Skipping again, Felix?” 

“What did I just say?” Felix snapped, and Dimitri flushed, briefly taken aback. Right. All these months, and it could still surprise him. Guilt gnawed at him, as it always did, and he shrugged, conceding to Felix’s ire. 

“Very well,” he said. “At least I doubt you’re off to carouse in Abyss, like a certain _someone_ we both know.” He gave him a smile, hoping to assuage him. Surely they could both still agree that Sylvain was a cad.

Felix gave him an uncertain look. “He’s not carousing,” he said. 

“Oh, _come_ now, Felix,” Dimitri sighed. “It’s _Sylvain._ What else could he possibly be --” 

“There’s a library,” Felix blurted, and -- was he _blushing?_ Dimitri’s mouth fell open. Felix’s words came faster, spilling out of him. “It’s probably nothing.” he said. “Just some baseless rumor. But there are books on battle techniques deemed too _dangerous_ , supposedly, so,” he shrugged. “We’re going to take a look.” And then he started forward -- not for the training grounds, as usual, but for the same stairwell Sylvain had disappeared behind.

He passed near enough that their shoulders brushed. “Close your mouth,” Felix added, and then, with something suspiciously close to a smirk: “You look ridiculous.”

Dimitri closed his mouth.

He watched Felix go, heart thumping. The way his lips had curved up, that brief, teasing glimpse of the best friend he’d lost, that would stick with him awhile, certainly. He licked his lips. 

Thoughts assaulted him, brief and rapid. 

Felix had not asked him _not_ to follow. He was probably telling the truth. Sylvain or no, Felix wouldn’t put up with carousing. If there were forbidden texts down there, there might be secrets. Secrets were the keys to conspiracies, and his personal research was much more important than anything even Professor Byleth could teach him. 

And Felix had _smiled_ at him. Ah. Sort of. 

Near enough.

He practically charged for the passage, fully committing before he could think better of it. At the second flight of stairs downward, he caught Felix twisting around a corner, and received nothing but a baleful, golden-eyed glare for his haste. Which was better than expected, really. Dimitri grinned, and then he remembered himself and tried to make the expression seem as apologetic as possible. “You can hardly blame me,” he said, forestalling Felix’s inevitable complaining. “Forbidden techniques? I need that edge as much as anybody.” 

Felix turned away from him, but not before Dimitri saw what he tried so hard to hide -- a flash of softness, a certain longing in his gaze that always seemed to spark when Dimitri managed to put him in mind of earlier, simpler times. His grin widened. He swore that he could _hear_ Felix’s walls crumbling, lately, slowly but surely. Just a few months ago, he would have snarled and shouted at him, stamping his fury, calling him beast and boar and demanding departure from his sight. And now… 

“You hardly need any help on the battlefield,” Felix scoffed at him, sounding practically _fond,_ by comparison. “But far be it from me to keep you from knowledge that might help keep you alive, some day.” 

He didn’t even tell him to turn back! Dimitri’s heart beat faster, hope sparking at kindling in his breast. “You always are speaking about the importance of unpredictable tactics,” he said, eager as a puppy.

“Don’t talk to me.” 

Dimitri bit his tongue, nodding. Best not to push him too far. 

They proceeded in silence, down through the dark passages, twisting and turning through corridors that echoed with the chitters and squeaks of agitated rats. The air grew cooler as they descended, and then abruptly warmer as they drew near the hazy torchlight of Abyss. Felix slowed and glanced about as they ducked beneath an iron grate and onto a makeshift street, together. Dimitri’s tongue practically itched in his mouth. Had Felix been here before? If so, how often? What else did he get up to, down here? Had he spoken with Hapi, often? Had he checked the back alley markets for any more of those Zoltan weapons, since last they’d spoken? 

“Felix,” he began, when he could hold back no more, but Felix held up a hand immediately, quieting him. 

Dimitri bit his tongue again, nearly hard enough to draw blood. This was so like the adventures they’d had when they were young, sneaking about the Fraldarius crypts or the servants’ passages in Castle Fhirdiad. Felix had to be feeling it, too. 

They remained there together for a long moment, watching, listening, and then -- without so much as a glance -- Felix started off down a narrow alley, muttering under his breath. _Damn Sylvain,_ Dimitri thought he heard him say, amidst a string of far less repeatable words. He hastened to follow, and he thought he took Felix’s point; Abyss was a dangerous place, and it was best to stay alert. 

Still, he couldn’t help but try again. 

“Have you been here often?” he whispered, noting the confident way Felix moved, as though he knew exactly where he was going. 

Felix grunted, perfectly noncommittal. 

It wasn’t… _not_ a response, Dimitri reasoned. He decided to push his luck.

“They say there is a summoner from the far south here that can call forth --” 

Felix whirled on him. “Shut _up,”_ he hissed. He jabbed a finger up at Dimitri’s face. “There is somebody _following_ us, idiot, so --” 

Dimitri heard it at precisely the same moment Felix did. A metal scrape, a weapon drawn at his back, and they moved together in one responsive motion, as though they’d practiced it. Felix drew his customary sword, Dimitri a dagger at his hip, and a shadowy assailant detached itself from the wall and lunged. 

Felix threw himself forward with a fierce, sharp cry, shoving Dimitri hard to one side. Intent on their foe as he was, Dimitri barely even saw it coming. He stumbled aside and lost his footing, tumbling gracelessly to his knees, and at his back there was a horrible clash of steel. Weapon edges caught along one another, squealing wretchedly, and Dimitri’s gaze constricted, his heart slowed, and the world washed red. 

_Laughter_ filled the alley, familiar and delighted. 

Dimitri blinked. A muscle in his jaw fluttered. Sweat rolled down his back.

“Wow, Felix,” Sylvain taunted, laughing still. “How about that, huh?” He jabbed viciously forward. Felix parried him easily, turning his lance aside with the flat of his blade, and then he spun in close, forcing Sylvain back. 

“I will _kill_ you!” Felix growled, and he struck back with equal force, cutting a vicious forward arc that surely would have merited a trip to the infirmary, had it landed. 

“Hey, come on,” Sylvain fluttered his eyes, a mocking caricature of innocence. He dodged Felix’s blows, dancing back, and then struck forward, catching Felix mid-thrust and nearly knocking the blade right out of his grasp. “You know I wouldn’t touch a hair on His Highness’s pretty little head… but, for a _second_ there, you sure _thought_ I might be --” 

“Shut _up!”_ Felix hissed, and he moved to the left as though he intended to strike overhand, wildly, and Sylvain turned to block the clumsy blow only to have Felix drive his left fist deep into his gut. 

“ _Shit!”_ he gasped, but even as he doubled over, he continued laughing still. Well. Perhaps not _that_ deep. Or maybe Sylvain simply had the sense to wear armor in Abyss. Felix rained blows on him, quick jabs, thudding against his shoulders, chest, stomach. Sylvain desperately tried to slap him away with one hand, fending him off -- badly -- with his lance held up before him like a shield. 

Dimitri breathed, slowly. 

Only Sylvain. Hah. And Felix had defended him! He climbed shakily to his feet, and something about their display helped to calm his frayed nerves, too. 

Just like when they were kids, he thought. 

“Okay, okay,” Sylvain groaned, when he’d had enough. He shoved Felix away from him, sharp and hard. “You’ve made your point!” 

Felix dropped his hands, panting, and twisted to meet Dimitri’s eyes. 

“I’m fine,” Dimitri said, quickly.. “Thanks to you, of course.” 

And Felix _blushed_ , mottled pink from the skin beneath his collar all the way up to the very tips of his ears. “You need to pay more attention,” he scolded, looking away. 

“Yeah, Your Highness,” Sylvain agreed, shoving past Felix to pick up the sword he’d dropped. He handed it back to Felix, which Dimitri thought was rather bold of him, all things considered, but Felix accepted it begrudgingly and sheathed it, muttering. “You’ll give poor Felix here a conniption if you keep putting yourself in danger, like that. You have no idea how hard he works, keeping you --” 

Felix stepped up and drove his elbow hard into Sylvain’s side, turning his grandiose speech into a pained exhalation. 

“You know I’m right,” he croaked, truly heedless of his own safety. 

Felix walked on down the alley, back in the direction they had been heading in, originally. 

He didn’t deny it, Dimitri noted, the last of the sourness in his stomach evaporating into lightness and, again, _hope._

“Come on,” Sylvain said, clapping him on the back as he went by. “You know how he is when he’s all worked up. We’d better watch his back.” He had a bruise darkening on one cheek, already. Dimitri figured he had done the numbers, and deemed his silly prank worth the inevitable sacrifice. 

He nodded, and they went together, following Felix’s furious, stalking form through the passages of Abyss. 

“That really was in poor taste,” he said, eventually. 

Sylvain sighed. “I know,” he said. “But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?” He turned to gaze at him, fluttering his lashes, like he could charm him as easily as one of his girls. “Forgive me?” 

“You ought to apologize to Felix,” Dimitri murmured. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sylvain shrugged. “Later, when he’ll actually maybe listen to me. But hey, let’s talk about you, huh? Look at this! Skipping class, eh?” He nudged him playfully, like they were partners in crime. Dimitri supposed that this time, he could hardly deny it. 

“Felix mentioned a library,” he said, like that explained everything. 

“More like a dumping ground,” Sylvain laughed. “It’s just piles of books. They’re not even sorted. Seteth just sends them down here by the cartful, apparently, if you believe what the locals say. It never used to be so bad, before, but I guess when he brought his sister here, he --” 

He cut himself off. Sighed, long and loud. 

“Is his ass really that distracting?” he wondered aloud, and Dimitri startled, stopping in the road, whirling to face him. Heat climbed up his neck. 

“What?” 

“Come on, you can tell me.” Sylvain grinned. “You were looking, don’t deny it.” 

“I wasn’t,” Dimitri insisted, though -- had he been? No, he’d been admiring his hips. The way his scabbard hung too loose to be strictly proper, to keep the hilt of his blade nearer to his hand. The way he moved like danger personified, the lines of his shoulders stiff and furious, his hair even more askew than usual thanks to his brief bout with Sylvain. Strands of it clung to a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. 

Dimitri nodded, firmly. “I wasn’t staring at his _backside,_ Sylvain,” he whispered, scandalized. He hadn’t been. “Don’t be crude.” 

“Whatever you say, Your Highness,” Sylvain said, holding his hand briefly over his heart. Then he flashed a grin that spoke more truth than any of his words had, and gestured forward with a flourish. “Anyway, here we are. I’m guessing you’re going to want the _boring_ books, so…” he waved him off, toward the far end of the chamber that loomed before them, where Felix was already heading. “Go ahead. Felix will show you around, if you’re nice to him.” 

“No I won’t,” Felix called back at them, and Sylvain snickered under his breath. 

Dimitri frowned at him, shook his head, and went to follow Felix. 

“I don’t suppose I need to ask what sorts of books Sylvain is looking for,” he said. 

And to his utter, enamored delight, Felix actually _laughed._

Not a lot, and certainly not loudly, but Dimitri heard his breath escape him in a shocked little chuckle, heard him suck in air as he tried to stifle it. Tingling adrenaline filled him, not terribly unlike the thrill of winning a spar. He flexed his fingers at his sides, longing to hurry his pace, to go and stand at his side. 

“He’s disgusting,” Felix confirmed. He gestured at the piles of books at their feet. Indeed, there were many, all around them. “Some of the other students have been trying to sort them out.” 

“You and Sylvain, included? That is… remarkably helpful of you,” Dimitri had to admit, surprised. 

Felix snorted at him. “I don’t have time to sort books,” he said. “And Sylvain only does it because almost all of the recent arrivals are filled with filth.” His lips twitched; Dimitri thought they were trying to smirk, again. He wished they would; he very much liked the way it looked on him. “I guess Seteth doesn’t like the thought of Flayn seeing any of it.”

“I see,” Dimitri said, faintly. “That seems… ah, reasonable.” He was standing in a haven of forbidden knowledge, all manner of conspiracies and secrets available to him to investigate, and he was spending his time here skirting delicately around the topic of dirty novels, instead. 

With _Felix._

“Does it?” Felix hummed. He picked up a book, nudged another aside delicately with one foot, and walked away from him, deeper into the makeshift library. Dimitri followed after him, lured by the promise of more conversation. 

“You can’t possibly approve of the monastery library hosting such indecent material,” he said. 

“So it’s better to hide it down here? Now you have Sylvain rooting through it, and finding even more ways to get in trouble along the way.” 

“People like Sylvain will get in trouble regardless,” Dimitri objected. “So you suggest we destroy it, then.” 

“Perhaps it shouldn’t be made in the first place.” 

Dimitri laughed, and Felix turned, narrow-eyed, glaring over his shoulder. Dimitri snapped his mouth shut, coloring brightly. 

“A lofty goal,” Dimitri said, stiffly, choking back more laughter. Felix snapped the book he’d opened shut, again, his glare intensifying dangerously. 

“Don’t mind Felix,” Sylvain called, at their backs. “He just hates when anything makes him feel urges that aren’t eating or fighting,” he said. Dimitri felt his flush deepen, the implication obvious and so very _Sylvain._

“You’re one to talk about uncontrollable urges,” Felix snapped at him, and Dimitri made a pathetic little squeaking sound, affected in an unexpected and entirely indecent way simply by Felix saying the words: _uncontrollable urges._

“You should try it some time,” Sylvain said, slyly. “It might help you relax a little.” 

Felix shot Dimitri a despairing little look; once again, so much like when they were children. Sylvain had teased him relentlessly back then, too -- everyone had. “He isn’t usually like this,” Felix said, like he was somehow responsible and expected to make excuses. 

“He is always exactly like this,” Dimitri replied, solemnly. 

Sylvain laughed. “Hey, Felix,” he said, “You want to hear about the latest spell I’ve been researching?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Too bad. Here, catch.” He said this casually, like he was tossing something entirely inconsequential. But when he drew up his hand, sticky black and purple threads seemed to crawl off the page with his fingers, long but shrinking, until they snapped into the shape of a lacrosse ball, though much softer in texture. He flicked his fingers, and the thing flew for Felix. 

Logically, Dimitri knew that Sylvain would never harm Felix. 

He also knew that Felix was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and that he and Sylvain were constantly horsing around like this, always egging each other on. Most likely, Felix would have simply twisted away from it and let the spell dissipate harmlessly back into aether. 

He jumped in front of it anyway, throwing his hands up like that mattered at all, when it came to magic. 

Felix made a sharp, dismayed sound at his back, and in front of him, he saw Sylvain’s eyes widen, saw his brow furrow with thought as that shockingly astute mind of his calculated all manner of possibilities from this one unexpected outcome. Dimitri _saw_ him make a decision, saw his lips curl into a devilish grin. 

And then, of course, whatever hex he’d hit him with began to take effect. 

It began as a strange warmth, curling low in his guts, making him feel rather like he’d just imbibed an entire mug of spiced cider. He tilted his head, curiously, running his hands over his front like he was searching for a wound. 

Felix’s hands landed on his shoulders, and quite abruptly, he was being turned viciously around. Strange. Felix typically couldn’t have manhandled him quite so easily, but he was feeling oddly… pliant. He gazed levelly into Felix’s eyes, and smiled. “Hello,” he said, a bit dreamily. 

A telltale bloom of red spread over Felix’s cheeks, and he pulled his brows down even further, his face a comical caricature of annoyance.

“Are you all right?” he demanded. He glared over Dimitri’s shoulder, at Sylvain. “What did you do to him?” 

“Well…” 

“ _Sylvain._ ” 

“Now, keep in mind, both of you -- this was supposed to hit _Felix_ , okay?” 

“I _knew_ teaching you how to dabble with dark spells was a terrible idea.” Felix put his hands on Dimitri’s face, frowning still. “You’re burning up. Are you sick? What did he do?” 

“Oh, no,” Dimitri said, pleasantly, smiling wider. “I feel…” A little warm, yes. That spiced cider feeling crawled pleasantly through his middle, up into his chest, hot and tingling. Felix’s hands on his face felt so cool and comforting, soothing his overheated skin, and without thinking, he leaned into his touch, his breath hitching. 

Felix snatched his hands back with a curse, and Dimitri stumbled forward and nearly fell. 

“What did you _do?_ ” Felix cried, his voice climbing higher in pitch. 

“Okay,” Sylvain said, and Dimitri thought, distantly -- they’d made a terrible mistake. “Here’s the truth.” They’d given him enough time to think of a story, to concoct whatever lie he liked. Sylvain was clever, that way. “It’s kind of a like, you know, a love spell, right?” 

He felt very, very warm. Sweat trickled down the back of his ears, onto his neck, and soaked into the line of his collar. “A _love_ spell?” he repeated, incredulous. 

Felix gave him a panicked look. “You mean a _lust_ spell,” he groaned. “Don’t you.” 

“Same difference,” Sylvain shrugged. “Look. It’s fine. It’s just a stupid little hex.” He held up the book, and then he tapped at a series of runes, scratched into the pages. “See?” 

“You know I can’t read that!” 

“Well, whose fault is that?” 

“Just tell me what it says!” 

Sylvain rolled his eyes, and then he cleared his throat, turning the book around to read it. 

The heat in Dimitri’s middle turned southward, and his eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen, moments before it did. Ah -- _Goddess!_

“What’s the matter?” Felix demanded. “Dimitri. You’re pale as a ghost.” 

Dimitri sat down, hard, narrowly missing a pile of books. He reached up to loosen his collar, and then, realizing that his -- _situation --_ was somehow even more obvious at this angle, he made an embarrassed sound and snatched a book up to hold it over the problem. Awkwardly. 

Felix made a strangled sound, Dimitri winced in sympathy, and a fresh wave of heat he was rapidly beginning to recognize as _overwhelming_ arousal struck him, and he had to bite back a moan. The simple friction of his nipples against his own clothing sent shocking little jolts of sensation through him, and it took all of his efforts not to move his shoulders in such a way as to encourage it. 

“Uh,” Sylvain said, in a tone that indicated loud and clear that his news would not be welcome. 

“What did you do,” Felix demanded, voice terse. He was still staring at Dimitri, his liquid amber eyes so intense they seemed to glow with inner heat. 

“Okay, so, I might not have read the whole thing, first,” he said, and if he was pretending, now, he was doing a passably good job. His voice picked up speed and pitch as he went on. “This says that if, uh -- the _need is not satiated --_ ” 

Felix groaned, covering his face. 

Dimitri pressed the book in harder over his crotch, face flaming. His hips twitched forward against that friction, not entirely of his own will. 

“-- Your Highness?” Sylvain gulped. “How are you feeling?” 

“If the need isn’t --” Felix made a garbled sound against his palms, “-- Then what.” 

“Fine,” Dimitri croaked, hoarsely. 

“Uh huh,” Sylvain said, quirking a brow. 

“Then _what,_ Sylvain?!” 

“He… probably won’t die?” Sylvain said, uncertainly. 

Felix drew his sword. Sylvain’s eyes flew wide. “Whoa, whoa, okay, Felix -- look, it’s simple! You just take care of him, and I’ll --” 

Felix made another incomprehensible sound, and brought his sword down and forward and a clean, sure strike, cleaving the book Sylvain held in his hands in two, neatly parting it through the spine. 

Pages flew everywhere. 

Sylvain stumbled back with a dismayed gasp, and Felix stepped forward, his stance one of a man about to strike to kill. 

“He can take care of himself, I’m sure,” Felix snarled. “Maybe I’ll take care of you, first!” 

“No, wait!” Sylvain ducked beneath Felix’s blade, utterly fearless, and snatched one of the fluttering pages out of the air. “Look!” 

Dimitri whimpered on the floor, grinding helplessly against the book clutched in his hands, so tight his knuckles were turning white. There was an obvious, darkening patch against the front of his trousers, wet with his own fluids. They’d think he’d soiled himself. He wished he had! This was a different sort of problem altogether, and a thousand times more embarrassing, besides!

Sylvain met his eyes, and Dimitri swore he saw him mouth a word -- _Sorry --_ and then he _winked._

“Look, Felix,” he repeated, turning with the page in hand. “See these runes, here? This one here -- _soul_ \--and this one here can mean a lot of things, like --” 

“Partner,” Felix said, dryly. 

Sylvain froze. “You can read it?” 

“I can read that one.” 

Dimitri had no idea what sort of game they were playing. He only knew that he wanted to touch himself, and _badly._ He couldn’t possibly. He bit his own tongue, his lips, grounding himself with the pain. He was a prince! He could control his urges, spell or no. He _could._

“Well,” Sylvain said, just a tad more uncertainly than before, “Some places, it also means something like mate, or even _lover._ ” 

“Soulmate,” Felix said, flatly. 

“It’s gotta be written in the stars, Felix,” Sylvain said, apologetically. “Damn. I really messed up this time, huh?” 

“You don’t think he’ll die,” Felix said. He was still speaking in that flat tone, curiously clipped, businesslike. 

“I mean, he’s pretty strong. I’m sure he can withstand some ancient old death curse.” 

Dimitri groaned. “Death curse?” he panted, weakly. Sweat rolled down his back. 

Felix glanced at Sylvain, and back to him. His lips were pressed flat, his face beet-red. “Are you dying?” he demanded. 

Dimitri laughed, weakly, and the motion of it, the way he doubled over, it made his nipples slide along the inside of his shirt, and he groaned, long and loud. Fresh liquid dribbled out of him, down below, soaking through his underclothes, spreading the wet patch on his pants. 

“I might be,” he panted, truthfully. Who could say for certain? He had no talent for magic. 

Felix turned to Sylvain. “Get out,” he demanded. 

Sylvain grinned so wide it practically split his face. “ _Felix,_ ” he gasped, an exaggerated mockery of consternated scandalization. “Are you saying that you think _you_ might be His Highness’s --” 

“ _Out,_ ” Felix spat, shoving him hard by the shoulders. Sylvain stumbled back, and, having achieved precisely his aims, he let himself be herded from the library, laughing all the while. 

He practically slammed the door behind him, and Dimitri heard it click in place as he engaged the bolt. The implication was clear. He’d guard the door for them, while they unmade his intentional mistake. 

How were they going to do that, again? Dimitri’s mind swam. He panted heavily, his hips still twitching helplessly against the poor soiled book clutched tightly in his hands. The binding was coming apart, he realized with dismay. He saw Felix’s eyes widen, the moment he realized it, too. 

“Look,” Felix said, tersely. “I think he’s lying.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Dimitri said, faintly. “Clearly, _something_ is happening to me!” 

Felix’s flush deepened, and Dimitri saw him take a deep breath, watched him tilt his chin to gaze up at the ceiling. He brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. 

“That rune just means _partners._ He was making it up as he went along. It was meant to hit me, remember? He just wanted me to --” his mouth twisted. “It’s a prank,” he sighed. “Sorry.” And then his face twisted into a deep, unabiding glare, all traces of softness or apology gone. “Why did you do that! If it had hit me, it would be _fine._ I doubt it even would have. I saw it coming!” 

Dimitri laughed, weakly. “For the same reason, I suppose,” he gasped, between hot, panting breaths, “That you jumped, ah, in front of his lance.” 

Felix regarded him, quietly. 

Dimitri closed his eyes, and whimpered again, low in his throat. “Felix,” he whispered. “You’re right. It’s just a prank. Just, just go, and I’ll -- take care of it. Myself.” 

“I used to tell Sylvain that we were soulmates,” he said, instead. 

Jealousy spiked through him, hot and unexpectedly sharp, piercing through his heart like a crossbow bolt. “You and Sylvain,” he repeated, gulping. “I s-see.” 

“No, idiot,” Felix hissed. “You and I.” 

“You and… I,” Dimitri repeated, slowly. 

“I was just a little kid,” Felix went on, refusing to look at him, staring up at the ceiling as he spoke. “I’d tell him all sorts of nonsense, phrases ripped right from those ridiculous novels Glenn used to --” 

He cut himself off, and then he dragged his hands down his face with a faint, embarrassed sound. Dimitri felt for him, truly he did, but it was impossible to express sympathy in any way that could be construed as sincere, given his current state! He could feel every beat of his heart resounding in the aching, oversensitive flesh jutting up between his legs, obscene in every respect, and here Felix was acting as though he had anything at all to be embarrassed about, in comparison!

“ _Anyway,_ ” Felix said, eventually, while Dimitri squirmed in place, burning to cinders. Or so it felt. “It’ll probably go away, if you -- you know.” He took a deep breath. “So.” 

“So, I --” Dimitri swallowed, hard, “Should I? Just -- right here?” 

Felix made a face, staring at the book coming apart in Dimitri’s hands like he wanted, perhaps, to _be_ it. Dimitri’s cock throbbed, distracting, overwhelming. He wanted Felix to touch it, so badly. To _want_ to touch him! A moan tried to escape him just at the thought. 

“You know how, right?” Felix said, and Dimitri laughed, helplessly, strained and reedy. Felix ducked his head at the sound and hunched his shoulders, drawing into himself, and then he strode forward, aiming for the door. “Never mind,” he breathed. “Goddess, forget I said such a ridiculous thing, of course you -- I’ll just -- you just knock, or something, when you’re finished, and I’ll --” 

“Felix,” Dimitri pleaded, reaching for him as he passed by. His hand curled around the tight, sculpted muscle of Felix’s calf, tracing its shape within the leg of his pants, and Felix froze in place, gazing mutely down at him. 

Dimitri’s hand crawled up the back of his leg, curled around his knee, instead. The book that had been covering his indecency fell away, revealing the obvious way his pants stretched to accommodate his arousal.

“Don’t leave me alone,” he rasped, and then, realizing just what he was _asking_ for, the request his words implied, he colored up to the roots of his hair, hot crimson flooding his cheeks. “You don’t have to do anything,” he begged. Don’t even -- don’t even look, if you don’t --” _want,_ he meant to say, but that felt too forward by far. He whimpered, sliding his thighs together, desperate to service his needs. “Just don’t leave. I’ll be quiet, I swear.” 

Felix’s mouth opened. Dimitri watched his eyes dart to the obscenity jutting up between his legs, and then return to his face, wider than before. “Why,” he demanded. 

It wasn’t a _no._

Dimitri tightened his grip on his knee. “Just in case. If, ah. If something should happen.” 

“Right,” Felix said, his breathing uneven, raspy in his throat. “Just in case.” 

“I’ll just --” 

“Go ahead,” Felix whispered, and then he spun around, hunched down still, crossing his arms. “Get it over with.” 

“All right,” Dimitri whispered back, and then, slowly, he let one hand crawl down between his legs, over the soaked fabric of his pants. 

_Seiros!_ He gasped at the immediate, intense sensation, the way even the faintest touch sent shocks of pleasure vibrating through his body. Experimentally, he tightened his grip on himself, and a low, overwhelmed moan escaped his lips, white light filling his vision. He stroked, slowly, and the wet whisper of fabric moving against him was obscene in its own way, too, because both of them knew precisely what it heralded. 

“You said you’d be quiet,” Felix accused, his voice strained. He’d hunched down further still, Dimitri saw, though he was doing his very best not to _look_ at Felix while he did this. 

“Sorry,” he panted, and then he twitched his fingers around himself and groaned again, louder than before. 

“ _Seiros,_ ” Felix hissed, and Dimitri clapped his other hand over his mouth, whimpering against his palm. 

“Sorry,” he gasped again, muffled against his skin. “Sorry, sorry! It’s just, it’s, whatever this is, it --” 

Felix’s back straightened, snapping up with comical speed. “I don’t need to know the details!” he exclaimed, all in a panic. 

Dimitri let go himself and shook his head, hard, side to side. “This is -- ridiculous. Just go, Felix. I can’t do this with you here.” 

Felix went still. “Right,” he said. He turned, but only barely, awkwardly sidling for the door, and Dimitri could not help but notice -- 

“ _Felix,_ ” he breathed. He tried to hide it with the way he walked, his hands fisted over his middle, but it was obvious that he was hard in his pants, too. Dimitri’s mind spun. He hadn’t even been struck with any accidental spellcraft, which meant he was affected so simply by the sounds _he_ had been making, the situation as a whole, which meant -- 

What did it mean? 

“Don’t _stare_ ,” Felix snapped at him, but Dimitri couldn’t have dropped his eyes for all the world. He ground his palm against himself, gazing at the hard line of Felix’s cock, and fresh liquid welled out of him, warm and wet and slightly sticky where it was pooling now between his thighs. He winced, and then, possessed with sudden, overwhelming desire to have them off of him, his fingers flew to his buttons with purpose. 

“What are you doing,” Felix practically squeaked. 

Dimitri yanked his buttons free -- one popped off to bounce and roll among the books -- and his fingers shook as he pulled open his laces. “Just go,” he begged. “I have to do this. Please.” 

“I thought you said you -- _couldn’t,_ while I was --” 

“I meant I _shouldn’t!_ ” Dimitri snapped at him, frustration cracking his patience at last. His cock leapt into the open air, the head fully exposed and purple with need. He closed his fist around it, and moaned again, long and loud, shamelessly. Goddess! Whatever this spell was, its effects only seemed to grow in potency. He stroked himself, hard and fast, panting and bucking up into his hand. “I shouldn’t,” he repeated, desperately, squeezing his eyes shut. “I want to, I want _you,_ desperately, but I shouldn’t, I’m so sorry, I can’t _stop --”_

He heard Felix move, heard the whispering swish of fabric and his faint footsteps and the _thunk_ and _thud_ of books tumbling away as he kicked them out of his path. Was he coming closer? Dimitri dared not open his eyes. He increased his speed, desperate to just be _done_ with it. If he spilled himself, surely, this silly spell would wear off! He squeezed harder, painfully tight, and if anything, he felt his climax fade further out of reach. He made a desperate, frustrated sound, tears pricking his eyes as he chased that receding cliff. No, no, _no._ He needed to finish, to get his head back, to regain control over his thoughts! 

A cool, soothing hand fell over his, fingers curling with his around his cock. His hand stilled, and so too did Felix’s atop it. He felt Felix’s other hand settle firmly on his shoulder, heard him fall to his knees beside him and settle in place, there. 

Heard his panting, ragged breaths, sounding nearly as affected as Dimitri did. 

He opened his eyes. Felix met them, fierce and steady. 

“Don’t say anything,” he warned. “Just listen.” 

Dimitri nodded, mutely.

“I’m going to help you,” he said, and excitement made Dimitri’s heart lurch and pound, booming in his chest. He increased the speed of his nodding, rapid and eager. “Only because -- there’s a chance, you know.” His gaze slid away, off to one side. “That he wasn’t lying.” 

“I do feel rather like I may be dying,” Dimitri rasped, apologetically. Sweat stuck his hair to his forehead and his shirt to his back. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Felix said, breathlessly. “And then never speak of it again. Agreed?”

That wasn’t what he wanted, not at all. 

But it was a start, and he’d take it. He went on nodding, nodding. “Yes,” he added, emphatically. 

Felix moved his fingers down the length of his cock. 

Dimitri tipped his head back and moaned, pleasure flooding him. Felix swore under his breath, softly, sliding the pad of his thumb over the swollen head, swirling through the slick, wet mess leaking from the tip. “Get your hand out of my way,” he demanded, tightening his fingers around Dimitri’s cock and on his shoulder, too. 

Dimitri snatched his hand back, happy to let Felix work, instead. His fingers were so different from his own, smaller and more slender, too. He gripped him firmly, stroking up and down, varying his pressure and speed until Dimitri found himself rocking up into his insistent fist. His stalled climax drew rapidly near, again, his balls drawing tight against his body, throbbing with need. 

“Close,” he choked out, leaning back on his elbows to let Felix labor over him however he liked. He cracked his eyes open to peek at Felix’s face, and, _oh,_ the expression he wore! Felix gazed down at his twitching, leaking cock with the same reverence he typically reserved for, for -- swords, Dimitri supposed. The Sword of the Creator, or the Sword of Zoltan, or even the Sword of Moralta, on those rare occasions when his father let them see it, and a desperate laugh escaped him on the heels of an intrusive thought -- _do you like my sword, too, Felix?_

Felix snatched his hand away, and Dimitri made a desperate, choking sound, dull pain flaring in his balls at the sudden lack of sensation. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” he hissed, and Dimitri reached desperately for his hand, for his wrist, dragging it back to his straining cock. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “Don’t stop. I wasn’t laughing at you. Please, please don’t stop!”

Felix’s eyes had a bright, glassy look to them, burning still, and obediently he tightened his fist back around Dimitri’s aching, needy length and squeezed, hard. He scooted closer, slumping over him. Dimitri slung an arm around his shoulders, crushing him against his side, and pressed a hot, messy kiss against the side of his face. 

Felix tried to pull away, of course, but Dimitri was stronger, and easily held him in place. 

“Faster,” Dimitri begged him, kissing his earlobe. “Please…” 

“All right,” Felix breathed, hard and uneven, stroking faster. Yes, _yes!_ Dimitri’s hips bucked, and he reached up to tangle his fingers in Felix’s hair, yanking his ties loose, letting it all fall loose and long over his shoulders, instead. 

“So close,” Dimitri encouraged him, moaning in his ear. “Felix, yes, so good, you’re so good to me, please, make me, let me… just a little more, a little more, ah, ah, there, yes!” 

“Goddess,” Felix groaned back at him, and then he leaned in and kissed him, firm on the lips. 

Dimitri came with short, sharp cry against his mouth, spilling hot and wet all over his working hand, his sweet, talented fingers. Felix stroked him through it, hard and fast, and Dimitri fisted his hand in his hair in response and kissed him back, shoving his tongue through the seam of his lips. Felix made a surprised sound, but he allowed it. 

He _allowed_ it. 

And soon enough, they were just sitting there, Dimitri sprawled on his backside, Felix curled awkwardly over his side, just -- _kissing._ Felix met his tongue eagerly, his fingers loose and limp around Dimitri’s cock, fully engaged in learning the rhythm of it, the give and take, balancing their breathing between their deep, greedy turns tasting each other. Or near enough. Dimitri _wished_ that he could taste him, wished with all his soul. 

His cock was still hard, he realized, after an embarrassingly long stretch of wonderful, messy, clumsy, _amazing_ kisses. 

He drew back, panting. The heat was still in him, burning unnaturally hot. He pressed his forehead against Felix’s and groaned, shaking his head. “It’s not enough,” he gasped. 

“I can tell,” Felix said, somewhere between teasing and actual concern. He circled his fingers around the base of Dimitri’s cock and let his fingertips drag lightly over his balls, making him shudder and gasp. “Maybe…” he hesitated. “I know I’m not your _soulmate,_ ” he said, finally, his face twisting like he’d eaten something sour. 

Hah. Or maybe something sweet, knowing Felix. 

“How do you know?” Dimitri panted. “You always seemed so sure, when we were young.” 

“Don’t make fun of me,” Felix warned, and Dimitri shook his head, hard. 

“I’m not making fun,” he promised. “How do you know, for certain?” 

“There’s no such thing,” Felix said, firmly.

A pang went through him. “Again,” he panted. “How do you _know?_ ” 

“I don’t!” Felix snapped, withdrawing his hand, wiping his palms on his pants. “Okay? I can’t prove anything. I can only tell you how I feel, and how I feel is, is…” he studied Dimitri’s face, eyes wild. “How do _you_ feel,” he demanded. “Any better at all?” 

“I did,” he said. “It’s getting -- worse, again. Ah, Felix. How do we know it isn’t true?” 

“I don’t want to talk about --” 

“Not that,” Dimitri said, quickly. “What Sylvain said. Listen. Feel -- here.” He grabbed Felix’s wrist again, and this time, he dragged it to the hollow of his throat, pressing his fingers in tight against the sweat-slicked line of his fluttering pulse point. 

“Dimitri,” Felix said, uncertainly. His eyes were so beautiful. He’d touched him, stroked him to completion, _willingly._ Emotion welled in him so thick it threatened to smother him. 

“I don’t think my heart has ever beaten so fast,” Dimitri murmured. He gazed up at him. “It only ever seems to when I look at you.” 

“Lines like that won’t work on me,” Felix warned, but Dimitri cut him off with a squeeze of his hand. 

“Please just touch me,” he begged. That heat was roaring in him again, stealing all his rational thoughts, the brief clarity that had come with his release. 

Felix pushed his hand against Dimitri’s throat more firmly, wrapping his fingers around the front of his neck. Dimitri’s cock _leapt_ to attention, harder than it had been even before, and when Felix swung a leg around to _straddle_ him, he nearly came again, untouched. Felix held himself on his knees over him, and then he pushed his ass down to tease along the full line of Dimitri’s aching, needy arousal. The fabric of his pants dragged rough against his oversensitive skin, but the heat of his body, beneath -- Dimitri moaned, loudly, bucking up against him, swallowing against the fingers gripping tight at his throat. 

“Ask again,” Felix said, gripping even tighter. 

Dimitri could have stopped him at any moment, could have plucked Felix’s hand off of him as easily as if he’d been an alighting insect. They both knew it, both understood what it meant when he did not. When he tilted his chin up to let Felix grip tighter, and spoke in a hoarse, scraping voice: 

“Please touch me, Felix.” 

“Will you die, if I don’t?” 

“Yes,” Dimitri rasped, without hesitation. 

And Felix smiled, slowly. His lips twitched, and suddenly that smirk was back, beautifully impudent. “Well,” he said. “I can’t allow that. Even if you _are_ a mad boar… the Kingdom needs you.” 

“You would never let me shirk my duty,” Dimitri whispered. 

Felix used his grip on his throat to push him down, and Dimitri could have resisted it, could have stopped him. Could have reversed their positions easily, and forced Felix to submit to him, instead. 

But he wanted to take this as far as he could, he realized. He let Felix push him down, moved to sprawl out beneath him onto his back. Felix kept one hand firmly around his throat, and the other, he moved down to work at his own buttons. Dimitri whimpered, softly. Felix tightened his grip on his neck. 

“Maybe touching isn’t enough,” he suggested, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Maybe so,” Dimitri agreed. His body quivered with anticipation, ached for release. Yes, yes. 

“I can’t let you die here,” Felix said, reasonably. His voice lifted out of its reverent whisper and became a soft, seductive arbiter of reason, instead. “It’s my duty to do whatever I can to prevent the worst effects of this curse.” 

Dimitri nodded. He wasn’t certain he could speak, between the anticipation, the emotion, the intensity of his want stealing his breath just as surely as Felix’s bruising, steely grip. 

“Take these off me, then,” Felix said, and Dimitri knew immediately what he wanted. He reached eagerly down to tear at Felix’s buttons and laces, opening his pants, drawing him out. Felix flexed his fingers against his throat, and nodded, once. Dimitri stroked him, base to tip, craning his chin over Felix’s fingers to watch. 

Felix pressed down, harder. “Don’t look,” he ground out through gritted teeth. For a moment, he actually closed off Dimitri’s windpipe. Dimitri swallowed, his face going dark for lack of air, and nodded, obediently. Felix loosened his grip, and Dimitri let his head fall back against the dirty floor, relying on touch alone to feel his way up and down Felix’s cock. He loved the way it felt, soft velvety skin sliding over a hot, iron hard core. 

“I wish I could taste you,” he whispered, unthinking. 

Felix shifted atop him, and the sound he made in response suggested he wished for the very same thing. “Would that be enough?” he asked. 

“No,” he said, quickly. 

Felix blinked down at him. Sweat formed a fine sheen on his face, down his neck. Dimitri longed to lift his head, to look down at his cock, again, to ground himself with how hard Felix was, too. He contented himself with touching him, stroking up and down, squeezing hard, until Felix’s hips were rocking against his fist. Elation filled him. He was enjoying this, he told himself, studying Felix’s beloved face, instead. He was. 

“What if I,” Felix’s voice cracked, and he paused. Breathed. “Tasted you,” he offered, quietly. 

Dimitri’s cock pulsed, and his hips jumped up off the floor. “Felix,” he gasped. “Oh, Goddess, touch me, I’m --” 

“Again?” 

“ _Please!”_

Felix used both hands, this time, one curled around his shaft, the other dipping down to tease and squeeze his balls, rolling them encouragingly back and forth as Dimitri’s orgasm ripped through him. It left him dazed, panting, with a mess drying all over his shirt, besides. 

He was still hard. 

He panted, his head rocking back and forth against the hard floor, dizzy. “Oh, Felix,” he gasped. “I can’t. I think -- maybe, we should get Manuela, or --” 

“Are you okay?” Felix snatched his hand back, like the hand he’d had pressed promisingly around Dimitri’s throat was the problem. Dimitri laughed, helplessly. “What’s the matter?” Felix demanded, and he actually did sound a bit frightened, now. 

Dimitri sat up with a groan, and caught his hands. “ _Sylvain,_ ” he hissed. “Whatever he did, he --” 

“He said it would take a partner,” Felix said, firmly. “Maybe he was, ah. Telling the truth about that.” 

“I’ve had you with me this whole time,” Dimitri murmured back at him in a daze. 

Felix’s mouth tightened. “You know what I’m saying.” 

Dimitri laughed, helplessly, squeezing his hands. “Do I?” 

“You’ve had me with you,” Felix ground out, his jaw bulging. “But you haven’t -- _had me._ ” 

Oh. 

_Oh._

A fresh sheen of sweat bloomed all over his body, tingling over his shoulders, across his back, up the spread of his stomach and chest. Drops of it rolled between his shoulderblades, and even as he watched, a fresh bead of pearlescent fluid grew at the tip of his cock, quivered in place, and then spilled down the side. 

Felix saw it, too. He ran a thumb through the slick trail it left behind, and Dimitri shuddered, his resolve crumbling to dust. 

“It might be the only way,” he said, and he desperately hoped that Felix heard what he _meant_ , instead, and then, just in case, he said it aloud, anyway. “I want you so badly I may _actually_ die,” he gasped, and above him, Felix… 

Felix just _smirked._

He lowered himself atop him, and pressed their lips together, once, fast. “I’ll save you,” he confided, all in a breathy string of words, barely leaving any space between them. 

“Please, yes,” Dimitri moaned. “Yes, yes. Let me feel -- let me feel you, Felix --” 

Another quick, frenzied kiss. Their lips smacked together. 

“How do you,” _smack_ , “want to do it,” Felix demanded, kissing him again _, smack._ Dimitri chased his lips, lifting his chin, and Felix pushed him back down and kissed him harder, long and wet and with a little tantalizing slip of tongue, too. 

“What?” Dimitri asked against his lips, half in a daze, his desire overwhelming all other senses. 

“Pay attention,” Felix growled, giving his cock a vicious tight squeeze. “How do you think,” _smack,_ “it has be, for it to work?” 

“You -- _ah._ ” He gasped. “You mean --” 

“Come _on,_ Dimitri --” 

“I want to be inside you,” Dimitri said, quickly, eagerly, forging heedlessly ahead. Felix shut his mouth with an audible _clack,_ teeth snapping together, and Dimitri rocked his hips up, making Felix’s body sway, too, atop him. “Ah, if that’s -- if that’s what you want, too --” 

Felix put his hands on his chest, steadying himself. “Will it _work?_ ” he pressed, sharply. 

Right. 

This wasn’t about _want,_ he reminded himself. Necessity. Only necessity. His balls pulsed, aching with a certain necessity, indeed. 

“It’ll work,” he assured him. “I… I can feel it, yes. It will.” He took a deep breath, nodding. “But, Felix --” 

“Shut up,” Felix warned him. 

Dimitri nodded, closing his lips. 

“I don’t want you _dead_ ,” Felix insisted. “That’s all.” 

“That’s all,” Dimitri agreed, softly. 

Felix tossed his hair back, loose as it was in his face, over his shoulders. He gave Dimitri an uncertain look. “I need a minute, to -- ah, prepare, so --” 

Dimitri couldn’t stand it. He sat up, moving too fast for Felix to avoid him, and pulled him close against his chest. Felix swore, fiercely, but Dimitri ignored him, ignored everything, rained kisses over his face, his forehead and cheeks and lips. Felix squirmed in his grip, protesting mightily, but Dimitri reached down, down into his open pants, past the hot line of his arousal and past his balls, back to that sweet hole he wanted so badly to sink into and fill to bursting with his cock. He pressed a finger, there, and Felix stilled in his grip, his protests melting into moans against his lips, instead. 

Dimitri teased him in little circles, moving mostly on instinct, responding to the way Felix’s body twitched in his grip, to the little gasps that fell from his lips. “As though I wouldn’t help you,” he growled, his voice hoarse and ragged, every word bitten individually off. “Please.” 

“As though you know what you’re doing!” 

“As though you know any better than I do!” 

“You don’t -- you don’t know,” Felix protested. Dimitri flicked his index finger hard against the tight ring of muscle he’d been busy gently teasing, and Felix jumped against him with a loud, ragged gasp. A telltale sticky string of fluid dripped from the tip of his cock, and they both saw it, simultaneously. 

They met eyes. 

They moved together as one, like their minds explored the same possibilities in perfect tandem. Their fingers curled around their own and each other’s cocks to squeeze them close together, skin to skin. Dimitri loved the way it felt, how Felix’s cock throbbed and burned against his own and the way curses and gasps fell unbidden out of his mouth and he hurried to reciprocate Dimitri’s every eager escalation. Their fingers moved in a synchronized frenzy through their own sticky slick pleasure, mingling their fluids together, hot and wet and filthy. Dimitri made a desperate, shuddering sound, and -- 

“Ah, Felix, I -- Stop, I --!” 

Felix stopped, immediately, snapping up to stare at him, wide-eyed. “Don’t you dare,” he warned. 

Too late. Dimitri came again, a third time, _certain_ that this time, this time it would be enough, cursing his luck all the while. “Ah, _ah,”_ he moaned, shaking his head, denying it even as cock twitched and pleasure whited out his vision and he spilled another long, thick rope over his and Felix’s fingers, both. 

“Oh, _damn you,_ ” Felix hissed, but he stroked him through it anyway, sweet and steady. “Really? You couldn’t just --” 

“Now, hold on --” 

“-- _Three_ more minutes --” 

“ _Felix,_ ” Dimitri hissed. 

Felix closed his mouth. His hand circled Dimitri’s cock. 

They met eyes. 

He was still hard. 

“Fucking _Sylvain,_ ” Felix muttered, giving him a hard, eager squeeze. 

“I,” Dimitri swallowed, gasping for breath. He closed his eyes, slumping back. “I am feeling, somewhat, ah, faint.” 

“Don’t go dying, yet.” 

“It might, ah, hah, be too late.” 

“I don’t think so,” Felix said, moving atop him. “Give me just, uh, just a minute, Dimitri.” He shifted again, and there was a slick, soft sound, and Felix sighed, then, low and quiet. “Oh,” he gasped, “Just, ah, just -- one -- ah --” 

Dimitri snapped his eyes open. 

Felix had one hand in his pants, _deep_ between his legs, and there was no question of what he was doing. His eyes were half-lidded, heavy, his lips wet and parted, and his legs shook as he moved his wrist and presumably pushed his fingers deeper.

Dimitri took hold of his pants, one side in either hand, and yanked them down off his hips, desperate to see more of it. Seams tore, and Felix made a dismayed sound, but he didn’t stop. Delighted, eager, burning with desire, Dimitri reached down to help him, murmuring happy little praises as he circled his fingers around Felix’s busy, working wrist. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “And working so hard, all for me. I truly do feel faint, Felix… ah, I can feel the magic, coursing through me… the wretched poison of it…” he tilted his chin expectantly up. 

Obediently, Felix bent forward, kissing him. For a time, Dimitri left it at that, busying his tongue with far more pressing matters. 

Goddess, he wished that he could taste. 

His fingers joined Felix’s, feeling out the tight, stretched ring of his hole, teasing at it in circles as Felix pushed his fingers in and out, fast and hard. Felix made an affirmative sound against his lips, and slowly, carefully, Dimitri pushed a finger of his own inside him, too. He delighted in the sounds Felix made and the way he shook against him, and -- Goddess above, the heat of him, inside, the tight drag… ah, but not enough slickness, he thought. He refused to hurt him, refused for it to be anything but good. 

He pulled back his fingers and his tongue, both, and Felix slowed his own ministrations to frown at him. “Dimitri?” A crease dug between his brows. 

“Ah, keep going,” Dimitri urged him. “Don’t stop, Felix. Ah, I can feel my strength slipping away,” he added, with a firm, confident nod. “I fear I may not be long, for this world…” 

Felix snorted at him, but his eyes slipped closed again, and the filthy, tantalizing sound of his own fingers working inside himself drove Dimitri half mad with want. His own hands shook as he dipped his fingers down between them, dragging through the generous leavings he’d left on their clothes, their skin, _everywhere._ When they were coated and slick, he slid them back to cover Felix’s fingers at his entrance, easing him open further still. Deep, shuddering breaths filled the space between them. 

“This is completely disgusting,” Felix said eventually, amidst breathless, labored moans. Dimitri gathered yet more of his own seed to slick his hole with, repeating his previous motions, except perhaps with even more zeal. 

“I can feel my heartbeat slowing, Felix,” Dimitri teased. “The dark magic closing the conduits of my very soul…” 

“Absolutely, shamelessly, _obscene_ ,” Felix panted, and Dimitri nodded, pressing their temples together, easing their fingers in and out of him, in and out. His hips rocked and his cock throbbed, desperately eager to take their place. 

“The sounds certainly are,” he agreed, and Felix snorted again, that half-aborted little laugh he’d heard so often, lately. Dimitri’s heart soared, and he _did_ feel dizzy, he truly did, with lightness, with gladness, with love and desire and burning, desperate need for more. He leaned in close, pressing his lips against Felix’s ear. “Save me, Felix,” he teased, gently, kissing the shell of it, flicking his tongue out to tease along the edge. 

Felix pulled his fingers away, and Dimitri moved with him, bracing himself eagerly against the floor. This was a dream, surely, he thought. But how could it be? He had no context for these feelings, these sensations. How could his mind have ever crafted this fullness in his heart, ever thought to teach him the way it would feel to wrap his arms tight around Felix’s body and moan gentle encouragement as he guided himself around his cock? 

Never. Never, never. 

“Oh, Felix,” he groaned, and thoughtlessly, he canted his hips up into his tight, quivering heat. He cried out, ecstatic at the sensation of it, gliding into Felix’s body, and Felix, Felix -- _Felix._ Hah. Felix cried out, too. And then he swore, loudly, and slapped the back of Dimitri’s head, hard. 

Dimitri shuddered and then blinked his eyes open, overwhelmed yet apologetic, gazing up at him. “Sorry, sorry,” he soothed, stilling his hips, squeezing Felix’s waist in his hands. “Sorry, Felix, ah, you feel so good, please…” 

“You don’t, ah, _sound_ like a dying man,” Felix scolded him, and Dimitri pressed their foreheads together, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. 

“It’s only because you’re doing such a wonderful job,” he assured him. “Saving me, of course, Felix, oh…” 

“Hah,” Felix scoffed, and then, with a brief, fierce little grin of his own, he eased himself lower, taking in more of him, squeezing him tight, so tight.

“ _Felix,_ ” Dimitri breathed, reverently. 

“If, ah, you’re not _dying,_ anymore,” Felix warned, and Dimitri laughed, silencing him with a warm, long, _deep_ kiss. He pushed on Felix’s hips, gentle yet firm, and Felix made a sound that was at least half a rebuke -- but he pushed himself further down, spearing himself and moaning with the pleasure of it. He was beautiful, incredible, unbelievable. Dimitri rained kisses on him, down his jaw, into the soft skin of his throat. He ran his hands up his back, wishing they’d taken their clothes off, wishing he could feel all of him in his arms, skin to skin. 

“Just a little more,” he whispered, begging. 

Felix sucked in a breath, gripped Dimitri’s shoulders, hard, and pushed himself down flush against his thighs. 

Dimitri buried a hand in Felix’s fine hair, grabbing a generous fistful at the back of his head. “So good,” he moaned, half delirious with it. “So sweet, Felix, oh, so good.” He breathed, long and deep. “All _mine,_ ” he added, voice low. 

“You sound perfectly recovered,” Felix said, and it was so _Felix,_ the way he tried to make his voice smooth, unaffected, even as his body fairly trembled. “I think that’s -- enough, don’t you?” He pulled himself up, gasping as he did so, and Dimitri moaned with that, too, the drag of his body just as sweet in this direction as the other. 

Dimitri caught his hips before he could actually pull off of him, completely. 

“Keep going,” he whispered. 

“Make me,” Felix said, fiercely, and a bolt of fresh heat crackled straight to the tip of Dimitri’s cock. He caught a ragged breath, and took a moment, reeling. 

He tightened his fingers in Felix’s hair, cautiously. “I -- _am_ feeling better,” he gasped. “I think you’re right. I’m cured, aren’t I?” He tilted his hips up again, burying himself into Felix’s wet heat, a thrill going through him at the way it felt to be in control of the speed, the depth, the angle. Felix cried out, loud and shocked, and then fell back down atop him, moving with Dimitri’s thrusting motion until their thighs slapped together, hard. 

“Then -- that’s enough, then,” Felix said. He opened his eyes, and then he made as though to move off of him, again. “That’s all you’ll get from me,” he added, eyes flashing. “Unless you take it.” 

“I could,” Dimitri murmured, studying his face. 

Felix gave him a defiant look, a look Dimitri knew perfectly well. 

“I will,” he amended, and at that, Felix swayed against him, nodding. He grabbed for one of Dimitri’s wrists, and pulled it against his chest. Dimitri flattened his palm just left of the center of it, marveling at the speed with which his heart beat, just as fast as his own. Faster, maybe. 

Felix shook his head, and tugged it upward. “Can you just -- ah, _fuck._ ” He paused, taking a moment to close his eyes and breathe, and Dimitri let him have it, though everything in him wanted to hurry this desperately. In the end, it proved worth his patience. 

“Hold me down,” Felix said, in a breathless, embarrassed rush. He pulled Dimitri’s wrist up further still, and slowly, understanding dawned. His fingers found the soft, yielding flesh of Felix’s throat, and he watched in helpless wonder as Felix let his fingers fall away, felt him nod, relieved. 

Oh, yes. He understood perfectly well. His cock throbbed, his heart pounded, and a thrill trailed electric fingertips up his spine, sparking pleasure everywhere they touched. He wanted it so badly he was practically dizzy with it. 

“Felix,” he whispered, his fingers twitching. His skin was so soft, so soft, there. He swallowed. “May I?” 

“Don’t _ask,_ ” Felix hissed. “Just _do it._ ” 

“Very well,” Dimitri said. Felix knew what he was asking for. 

He swapped their positions, easily. He didn’t even have to leave the sweet, squeezing heat pulsing so incredibly around his cock. He simply shoved Felix back by the hand he had at his throat, guiding his descent with his other hand at the small of his back. Felix landed hard with a grunt, beneath him, glaring up at him, and the moment he opened his mouth to scold him, Dimitri tightened his grip. 

Felix’s voice cut off before he could even form his first word. His eyes flew wide, his fingers dragged up to scrabble at Dimitri’s wrist, and Dimitri -- Dimitri gazed down at him, at the defiance shining still in his glittering eyes, pulled his hips back, and then he fucked him, hard. 

He cried out, shocked at how good it felt, at the power and the pleasure that surged in his blood. It made him feel ascendant, nigh invincible. The worship in Felix’s gaze made Dimitri a hero, a _god_ in that moment, and he pulled out, hard and fast, desperate to feel it again. His hips snapped forward. Felix threw his head back, though no sound escaped him, and Dimitri flexed his fingers one by one where they bit hard into his throat. 

He pulled back, and loosened his grip. Felix sucked in a desperate breath, his chest heaving up and down. 

“More?” Dimitri murmured, gazing rapturously down at him, desire tingling up and down his spine. His cock throbbed. It wouldn’t be long. He desperately hoped the spell kept him hard, again. He intended to fuck him until they both collapsed with bone deep exhaustion; forever, if he could. 

“Dimitri,” Felix groaned, squeezing his wrist. “Did I not _just_ tell you not --” 

Dimitri tightened his grip, crushing down against his windpipe, and Felix’s voice cut off into garbled choking. He shuddered beneath him, tears flooding his eyes. 

Nodded, once. 

“Oh, Goddess,” Dimitri breathed, burying himself to the hilt. “Oh, _Felix!_ ” It took him several tries to find the rhythm, and Felix kicked him viciously more than once, hard with his heels when Dimitri held him down for too long. Ah, but when they did find it! _Goddess!_ Dimitri tightened his grip, and Felix’s face purpled beneath him, tears streaming down his face while Dimitri drove himself inside of him, fucking him viciously, driving in until his balls slapped against him and their thighs slapped loudly together. Felix would clench around him, scratch down his back, sharp even through his clothes, and then Dimitri would release his bruising grip on his throat and pull back, and ah, Seiros, sweet Sothis and all the Saints, it was perfect, decadent bliss. 

Felix’s back arched beautifully when he came, spilling himself all over his own exposed stomach and his uniform jacket, his flushed, gorgeous cock spurting long, tempting ropes. Dimitri released his hold on his throat, eager to hear him cry his name in ecstasy. Felix obliged him, though it must have pained him, judging from the red and purple bruises around his throat and the hoarse state of his voice. 

Still -- “Dimitri,” he cried, bucking beneath him. “Dimitri, oh, _fuck,_ Dimitri --” 

And, helplessly, Dimitri followed him into bliss. 

He buried himself deep inside Felix as his climax swelled and burned through him, and he felt Felix’s arms wrap tight around him, felt his fingers scrabble up the back of his neck and into his hair. He moaned his bliss, crying Felix’s name with as much enthusiasm as he had indulged him. 

And eventually, slowly, their movements stilled. Dimitri buried his face in Felix’s shoulder, and Felix gave his hair an impatient tug. Dimitri shook his head, refusing to move. 

This time, he could feel the magic leaving him. Perhaps there had been something to Sylvain’s theory, after all. 

Or perhaps it was coincidence. It didn’t matter. 

What mattered was Felix, loose and warm and pliant beneath him. Dimitri leaned down and planted a kiss on his forehead, ignoring the inevitable, embarrassed scolding that followed. His Felix, he thought, dreamily. 

“And you _ruined_ my pants,” Felix was saying, when they heard the sound of the bolt click. 

They froze, their position _beyond_ compromising. 

The door cracked open. 

“Uh, hey…” Sylvain’s voice. He sounded a bit breathless, himself, and Dimitri met Felix’s eyes, both of them understanding at once. “If you guys are like, _done,_ I can’t sit here guarding this door forever, so --” 

“You were _listening,”_ Felix groaned. 

“No!” Sylvain gasped -- and then he laughed. No, _cackled._ “I figure I’d better get used to it, right? HIs Highness’s room being right next to mine, and all…” 

Felix bucked beneath him, and Dimitri recognized the murderous glint in his eye. He rolled off of him, and -- ah. Indeed. His pants were _beyond_ ruined, torn down the center seam, hanging in tatters off his legs. 

Felix only seemed to realize the extent of the damage when he reached for his sword, only to find that his scabbard hadn’t risen with him. It lay on the floor, with a ragged strip of his torn waistband. 

Dimitri stared unabashedly at the wet fluids dripping down the backs of his exposed thighs, his exhausted, aching cock begging him not to think about it too hard, lest he actually kill himself with sheer _exhaustion._

Felix jabbed a finger at him. 

“This is _your_ fault _,_ ” he insisted. “You fix it!”

Dimitri laughed, breathlessly, dragging himself upright onto legs that barely held him. He straightened and fixed his own pants with fingers that shook so hard, the task took twice as long as it should have. He’d lost a few buttons, himself. He unbuckled his cape, and then, wincing, he set about cleaning up the mess they’d made, with it.

“Sylvain,” he called. 

“...Highness?” 

“ _Don’t,_ ” Felix protested, but Dimitri gave him a helpless shrug -- what else were they supposed to do? -- And then he did it, anyway.

“Please find Felix a pair of pants.” 

Felix slapped his hands over his face, and Sylvain slammed the door, but they heard his laughter through it, all the same. 

**Author's Note:**

> Does it count? You decide, but I'm putting it on my card either way 😇
> 
> Written for the 'Fuck or Die' prompt (among others) for dmlxNSFWBingo 2020! (Also, for lin, thanks again 🥰)


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